Stronger and Stranger
by AllIsButToys
Summary: 'He had no purpose, except possibly to die here, trapped in a dank cell with a faceless girl.' A Soldier trying to regain his identity. A woman trying to get home.
1. Chapter 1

**Stronger and Stranger by AllIsButToys**

"_the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes"  
_Vladimir Nabokov

**Prologue**

To the outside world, he recognised, there seemed to be nothing unusual about the figure he cast. A man in a worn shirt and cap, standing in front of one of the many panels of information held in the building.

He read the words.

Words about friendship.

Loyalty.

Sacrifice.

Words about a past he could not remember.

His head pounded as he struggled to understand their meaning. To understand what had been kept from him all these years. His fists clenched at his side… and then a small, warm hand wrapped itself around his own right hand, twining fingers together and reassuring in the simplest of ways (yet still a novelty for the broken man).

She called his name, his real name, softly and he turned to look at her.

'Have you made your decision?'

**Chapter 1**

The Soldier had lost count of how many days he was held before it happened.

At first he thought the girl they threw into his cell was one of their own, sent to extract information from him. As he watched her he realised that he was wrong. Not even his former comrades could have feigned the fear that radiated from her every pore.

She sat huddled against the far corner of the room. They had thrown her there, the ones who brought her, and she had yet to move or speak. She had glanced briefly in his direction before the door had been slammed shut behind her, but all he had seen was a set of wide, terrified eyes. The ragged rhythm of her breathing, however, spoke volumes.

He ignored her, she was nothing to him, and he was nothing to anyone. He had no mission, no purpose, he had been left here to starve, to rot, a dog that had disobeyed, had tried to run from his master and had been caught.

They had caught up to him several months after DC. He had been trying to fly to Moscow, to find out where it all started. They had brought down the whole damn plane just to get him. He didn't know how to feel about that. How to feel about the unseeing eyes of the young boy and his mother who had been sat in his row, or the ninety-five other people onboard.

He was not unfamiliar with death, but that moment had not been of his making. He had been controlled for so long that when his few moments had ended it was worse than before.

And now here he was. He had no purpose, except possibly to die here, trapped in a dank cell with a faceless girl.

/-/

He heard the footsteps of the approaching guards before she did. She jumped as the door opened and a bottle of water was flung her direction.

So they wanted her alive, then, he noted. She must be someone important. Someone they could ransom, or someone they could tr…

He quelled that notion and the unknown but painful images that came with it.

But why would they put the girl in here with _him_? Especially if they wanted to keep her alive. Then again, he thought ruefully, it wasn't as if he could do anything in his current situation.

It was another two minutes before he heard the quiet rustling of cloth as the girl unfolded her limbs and slowly reached for the water bottle. The Soldier could only see her outline, the only light in the room being directly above him, blinding him. The girl was cast in shadows while he was lit up, a macabre image of suffering and pain.

He heard the soft movement of the water as she took a small mouthful. _Clever girl_, he thought, _make it last_. He expected her to retreat back into the corner, into the semblance of safety given by the dark. Instead she started to slowly approach him. _Not clever after all_, the Soldier thought. What sort of woman would approach a man in a cell, with a metal arm, whose hands were locked onto the walls? He wanted to curse at her, tell her to stay away, to leave him, but the filthy rag they had forced in his mouth when he was unconscious prevented him from doing so.

Finally the girl stepped into the light.

She was a civilian, that much was clear from her clothes: blue jeans, brown boots, a printed t-shirt. A cursory glance told him that she was unused to combat. Her body lacked the muscle tone of a fighter. She was also very young, early twenties probably, and still obviously afraid.

She was fighting that fear as she knelt down beside him. 'I'm uh- going to take this off. Please don't bite me, okay?'

His eyes flashed to hers and her hands stilled, hanging suspended in mid-air. What was she thinking? This girl, despite her nerves, was reaching out to help him, to touch him. Didn't she know who he was? What he was?

Fear and determination battled in her deep blue eyes as she moved again, her hands gently pulling the gag from his mouth and over his chin. He breathed deeply through his mouth and instantly regretted it, the feeling of burning in his throat multiplying tenfold.

The girl seemed to sense this, unscrewing the lid off the water bottle and lifting it to his lips. At first he tried to resist, it wasn't meant for him.

'It's alright,' she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the door every now and then. 'Please…'

He took a small sip, knowing not to overwhelm himself as he had previously done. Then another, and another, before titling his head away, signalling that he was finished.

The girl was watching him carefully. He stared back, an unexpected feeling of shame brewing when her eyes started to catalogue the series of cuts and abrasions on his face and chest. Before he knew what she was doing she had pulled a small square of material from the back pocket of her jeans and was using yet more of her precious water to dampen it. 'May I?' she asked, gesturing to one of what he imagined was one of the bloodier cuts on his cheek. He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from her face.

'My grandpa,' she started haltingly, 'never went anywhere without a pocket handkerchief. I never understood it before, it went back to his days in the army I think.'

He knew _what_ she was doing, trying to distract him as her hands moved gently over his face, washing his cuts and removing the grime from his cheeks. What the Soldier didn't understand was _why_ she was doing it. What could this girl possibly gain from helping him? What did she want?

'He never spoke about it, the war,' she continued as her hands moved to his chest, 'even 'til the day he died, he never mentioned it once. He always wanted us to be prepared though… his grandchildren that is. Would never let us leave his house without a handkerchief and a pen knife… wish I'd listened to him about the penknife now,' she said, bitterness creeping into her voice, 'and to hell with…'

She stopped, her voice faltering. Though he couldn't feel it the Soldier knew she had brushed the metal of his arm. Their eyes locked once again, dark blue and steely grey and he watched as the girl took a deep breath and continued her story as her hands wiped the dirt from around his scarred shoulder.

'He would have been ashamed that I was abducted so easily.' She had finished now and her hands sat limply in her lap, at a loss for what to do next. She offered him a little more water and he took it, noting with something that felt very much like unease that her meagre supplies had been depleted by half already. But if she was a hostage, they would keep her alive. They would want payment.

She was still looking at him. Not staring with the horror and fear that he was so used from his targets, nor the revulsion of his commanders. She looked at him as if she were trying to solve a very difficult riddle: curiosity, that was what it was.

After what seemed to be an eternity she stood and walked back to the corner, drawing her knew up and wrapping her arms around herself. She seemed disappointed somehow, in a way she had not been when she had entered the cell.

Her voice was softer now, and in the dimness he could still make out her eyes, looking at him hesitantly, expectantly. 'I'm Darcy.'

The Soldier recalled a moment when it was raining metal and glass, when his name (his _other_ name) had been revealed to him.

'James,' he whispered into the darkness, 'my name… is James.'

**Author's Notes**

Hello again readers!

First a confession: the Darcy/Loki story I had been planning is still… well, being planned. In the meantime this idea sprang to mind and wouldn't go away. So here we are!

I'm not sure how regular updates will be as I don't have this fully planned out as I usually do with stories, so _please _add me on Story Alerts if you want to follow along.

I know they have never shared any screen time, but for some reason the idea of Darcy and Bucky just worked for me (for reasons that will hopefully be revealed in the story).

As ever, I own nothing that you would recognise. I will be pulling characters from across the Marvel Cinematic Universe and possibly a few from the comics as well, so be on the lookout for them.

Reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After they had given the girl… Darcy, her bottle of water there had been no sign of them for at least a day. It was difficult to mark the passage of time here, where there was no natural light to indicate the time of day. The Soldier was used to it, the girl clearly was not.

After the first six hours her stomach began to rumble. After seventeen hours her water had run out and the Soldier thought she would regret giving him so much.

'Your necklace,' he said, breaking the silence of the room, 'is it metal?'

He had noticed the silver pendant earlier, a swirling Celtic design by the look of it.

'Yes,' came the small voice from the dark.

'If you suck it, it will keep you from feeling thirsty.'

His suggestion was met by a small huffing noise that the Soldier thought might have been a sad little laugh. 'In any other situation I would probably find that suggestion funny,' she said, her voice a bit bolder now, 'seeing how it was given to me a friend's fiancé.'

The corner of the Soldier's lip twitched.

/-/

After what he estimated to be just over twenty four hours they came again, shoving a paper plate with some bread and an apple into her hands, along with another bottle of water. She had waited until the footsteps had retreated back down the hall before feeding him most of the bread and half the apple. After over a week of not eating he had never tasted anything so good.

/-/

Every day for a week they brought her food. Bread, a piece of fruit, once or twice a bit of chicken or ham. And every day she shared it with him. _They_ obviously didn't suspect her of doing it, otherwise they would have stopped feeding her. It wasn't as if they were suddenly friends, after all. After she was finished feeding him or letting him drink from her water, Darcy would go back to her corner.

Until the eighth day.

/-/

He heard their loud approach long before they reached the door. Three of them, drunk. Coming for her.

A surge of protectiveness he did not know he possessed forced him to open his mouth, 'Darcy, get away from the door.'

She was on her feet immediately. Her eyes moved frantically around the room looking for some escape that she had to know by now wasn't there. Instead she cowered beside him.

'What's happening?' she whispered.

The door banged loudly against the wall as the three crashed into the room. They squinted into the dark for a moment before the leader noticed her at his side.

'Lewis' become Soldier's pet, better come with us is y'know what's good for you,' he slurred, staggering over to them.

The Soldier growled at the man. From the time they entered the room he could smell their stench of cheap alcohol and cigarettes.

'C'mon Lewis,' one of the others goaded her, leering at her chest as he spoke. 'We're here to save you. He's too dangerous for the likes of you.'

The Soldier struggled against his restraints, scowling viciously at the man closest to him as Darcy edged ever closer to him. 'He's not the one threatening me.' Her voice was stronger than he imagined it would be. There was some fight in this girl yet.

They laughed at that. The smaller man at the back had yet to talk but from the way he was looking at Darcy the Soldier had no delusions about what would happen when they took her from this room.

The tallest of the three goons took another step forward. The Soldier could only watch as he twisted his hand in Darcy's hair, pulling her from the floor. The Soldier felt her fingers brush against his cheek as she was pulled away from him.

'They refused to pay us,' he slurred, his face inches from hers, 'said they didn't negotiate with the likes of us.' He twisted his hand tighter into her hair and she let out a whimper, but the Soldier could see she was fighting to keep her fear and hurt in check.

One of the others laughed, 'No ransom for you girlie, boss says we can do what we like with you now.'

Darcy's face paled but her voice didn't waver. 'Go to hell.'

She didn't cry as they dragged her from the room and the Soldier continued to struggle as her eyes remained on his face until they closed the door.

The first sound he heard after that was a distinctive slap. And another. And another.

He thrashed against the wall as images flashed in front of his eyes, the specifics of each eluding him. A young woman smiling at him despite a distinctive bruise around her eye, a brawny man blocking his way, himself as a scrawny dark haired boy standing up to the brute…

Her scream was the last straw.

With renewed strength he pushed at the restraints that held him, his prosthetic breaking through the metal. He tore the other cuff off with ease and staggered to his feet, his head swimming with vertigo after being stationary for so long. Somehow he made it to the door, wrenching it open in a cloud of dust and rubble.

He tried to ignore the rip in Darcy's top and the way the leader had her pinned against the wall, but his blood was boiling. It had been too long since he had fought and his rage consumed him.

The first thug didn't stand a chance as he was thrashed against the wall. Unconscious or dead, the Soldier didn't care. The next was trickier, he had had the time to draw his gun and had to be disarmed before he was sent crashing to the floor.

By the time he faced the third the Soldier found himself facing a man with a gun to Darcy's head and a thick arm around her throat. He halting, at a loss of what to do, but the decision was taken out of hind hands as he saw Darcy sink her teeth into the man's arm. He howled with rage but the shock made him relinquish his hold on Darcy, who ducked. Her captor joined her on the floor less than a second later with a bullet hole in his forehead.

'James,' she choked out and he was at her side instantly, pulling her up. He held her at arm's length, assessing for damage. 'I'm okay,' she said, as his eyes took in her dishevelled clothing and the growing bruise on her cheek, 'they didn't get a chance to…' she hiccupped, a strangled sort of noise and the Soldier knew he had to keep her focused. To keep himself focused.

'Do you know how to use one of these?' he said, pressing the pistol he had taken into her hand.

'Sort of,' she muttered.

She would be a liability if she didn't know how to use the gun, but somehow that didn't matter. 'Then just follow my lead.'

He took the handguns from the other two cronies. One groaned and received a swift kick to the head to ensure his compliance. The soldier looked at the shaking form of the girl beside him and tucked one of the guns into his waistband, reaching for one of her hands with his good one.

Her eyes were glassy, unseeing as he looked into them. 'Darcy,' he said, bending over so his face was level with hers, 'Darcy? I'll get us out of here, I promise. I'll get you home.' Her mouth tightened, the determination he was growing used to returning. She nodded and let him pull her along, through winding dark corridors.

It wasn't long before the alarms sounded. The dog had escaped its cage and it had been noticed. But this dog was the Winter Soldier, he thought to himself, and he was ready for freedom.

/-/

It was another half hour before they came across anyone. The Soldier pushed Darcy back and around a corner as he opened fire on the men blocking their way. Three fell and one retreated. The Soldier let him go, pulling Darcy after him. Whatever way he was heading, was the way to the exit.

Two hours, several stolen weapons and at least twenty bodies later the Soldier could feel Darcy beginning to flag.

Just as he was about to give up and find somewhere to rest, the Soldier spotted a group of men, standing around a heavily guarded door. That had to be their way out.

Taking them out was simple. None had drawn their guns, leading the Soldier to believe that if they fired they would be heard by someone. After he dealt with them, he reached for Darcy again, bringing her up the stairs and into the light.

Wordlessly she handed him a black jacket she had evidently stolen somewhere along the way and he shrugged it on.

He pulled the door open. 'Let's go. One at a time.'

Though the words came from his mouth, they were not his words. An image of a pit of fire and the sensation of the ground shaking came to mind briefly before he ushered Darcy out and into the daylight.

At least, he had thought it was daylight. Once they were in the open the Soldier squinted against the artificial brightness of the lights surrounding him. Brightly coloured signs flashed and shimmered from every building.

'Where the hell are we?' he muttered, dragging Darcy along quickly as she too looked up at the lights.

'I think we're in Las Vegas.'

**Author's Notes**

If anyone is wondering why the writing style of this piece is so sparse so far, I'm trying to write everything as the Soldier sees it. He _is _a soldier. While details are important to him they are instinctual, not something he necessarily gives great thought to.

The piece will develop with the character as we go along.

As ever, I own nothing recognisable.

I find reviews absolutely invaluable when it comes to developing my writing style and giving me the motivation to continue with stories. However, as well as thank my reviewers I would like to thank all of you who have taken time to read, and even follow this story so far.

I hope to have another update soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The pair rushed through the city, winding between passers-by in their hurry to be as far away from wherever they were held as possible. This must be the nice end of town, the Soldier noted, seeing the sea of evening gowns and custom suits that passed them by.

'How adverse are you to pickpocketing?' He asked Darcy as they continued.

The look she gave him was full of disbelief. 'Is that really necessary?'

'You got any money?'

She blushed, 'No.'

'Then yeah,' he drawled, rolling his eyes internally, 'it's pretty necessary.'

He wasn't one of the world's greatest conversationalists but ten minutes and three wallets later the Soldier spoke to his companion again. 'We have to get out of the city. Tonight.' He slowed their quick pace.

'If we get a bus, they can track us,' she commented astutely. 'Same goes for any plane in the country,' he suppressed a shudder at that, 'so what are you suggesting? That we walk? Where are we even going anyway? Do we have a plan? Do _you_ have a plan?'

He couldn't yet discern how much of her talk was due to nerves and adrenaline, or if this was the norm for Darcy. But a plan was slowly forming in his mind. 'I promised I'd get you home didn't I? So I'll take you to…'

'New York.'

Another image appeared briefly. The sun rising behind a skyscraper. 'New York. Then I'll come back and find the bastards who kidnapped us.' He didn't feel the need to finish that thought, but the tightening of her mouth said she understood his meaning.

Darcy nodded. He still had not relinquished his hold of her hand and found that he did not want to. He had promised he would keep this girl safe and that was what he was going to do. He had held great stock in promises once, his mind told him. And there was just something about her…

'We need to find a parking garage,' he said, looking about, 'one with no security guards. We need to… borrow a car.' He added, glancing sidelong at Darcy. She smiled weakly.

'We're turning into Bonnie and Clyde, aren't we?' The Soldier frowned, not understanding the words. 'Never mind, I just… don't feel comfortable with a lot of crime – type – things.'

His incredulity must have showed. 'But me killing those guards, that was okay?'

'That,' she said pointedly, 'was self-defence. Totally different ballgame.'

The fact that she was not afraid of him suddenly struck the Soldier. She should be afraid. She had witnessed him killing or injuring many men during their escape, and yet she was content to follow him, to believe him when he said he would protect her. This puzzled him. Why was she not swooning? She couldn't possibly be used to men like him. She was too trusting, he decided, far too trusting. They would have to work on that before he got her back to New York. It probably had something to do with how she was taken in the first place.

He spotted the sign for what looked like a dimly lit parking garage. He steered Darcy that direction while asking, 'Why did they want you, anyway?'

She met his eyes and shrugged. 'I was out for dinner with a friend, they grabbed me when I went to the bathroom, knocked me out. I woke up being dragged down a corridor and shoved into a locked room. They said something about a ransom, though. The friend I was out with is… well, let's just say that he has money to spare. It's probably got more to do with him than me.'

He made a non-committal noise. What did it matter why she had been taken? She was here now, and he had to get her home.

He spotted a pickup truck away from the security cameras on the ground floor. It was black, it looked fairly new and it was generic, unremarkable. It was perfect.

It was also, he discovered on lifting the hood, a lot more advanced that the cars he was used to commandeering. Some of the technology was the same, but it was swamped by a mass of unfamiliar wires and metal.

He almost hit his head when the engine roared to life. Looking around the raised bonnet he has Darcy sitting in the passenger seat, smiling at him expectantly. He closed the flap and jumped into the cab alongside her. 'Did you just hotwire this?'

'My landlord's a mechanic, he taught me a few things,' she said nonchalantly. 'Now, let's get out of here.'

He had to admit to himself, as she rifled through the different compartments in the cab, he was impressed.

/-/

Darcy's search of the cab had provided them with a packet of gum, some napkins, an old blanket, a few business cards and a handful of loose change. Not exactly the spoils of war either of them had been hoping for.

'Um, so what's the plan now?' Darcy eventually asked, as she watched the sun rising and the miles of asphalt disappearing under their tyres.

'I drive until I can't see straight, then we find somewhere to crash for a while.'

He could hear the faint amusement in her voice as she asked, 'And how's the eyesight right about now?'

'Not great,' he replied. 'But we've only been driving for…' he checked the clock on the dash, 'five hours. We should keep going a while longer, find somewhere to stay off the main roads.'

'Or there's a motel right there,' Darcy said, pointing to a sign that heralded a motel and gas station. 'If anyone's following us,' she reasoned, 'would they really expect us to do something as stupid as hide in plain sight, and when it's daylight too?' She grinned at him, 'It's all reverse psychology.'

'I don't like psychology', he muttered but the gas light was blinking at him, they would have to stop somewhere. 'But I do like caffeine.'

They filled the car with gas and the Soldier watched Darcy as she went into the shop to pay. She came back not only having paid for gas and two cups of coffee to go, but having also managed to purchase some energy bars, bottled water and even a pair of men's driving gloves.

'You did good,' he murmured once they were on the road again. He was anxious to put as many miles between them and Vegas as possible. He had no idea who was after them or what connections they might have, the best thing they could do was simply keep going.

/-/

After another two hours of driving the Soldier turned off the main road. Darcy, who had fallen asleep despite the cup of coffee jolted awake at the change in direction.

'Relax,' he said as she looked around blearily, 'there's no one following us and we need to rest.'

'M'kay,' she murmured, rolling her neck. 'Where are we?'

'Heading to Delta, Colorado,' he replied. 'We find somewhere to stay, sleep, eat and move on.'

'I hope "shower" is somewhere on that agenda, too.' Darcy quipped, pulling at her clothes self-consciously.

As he glanced over at her the Soldier also realised that they would both need new clothes. For himself was the need to look less conspicuous, but Darcy… her unkempt hair, the now purpling bruise on her left cheek and the tear in her shirt… his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

'This is a fairly big town,' she commented as she observed the early morning activity of stores beginning to open, 'there's bound to be, like, a Walmart or something.'

She was right, there was. The Soldier trailed after her now, as she filled a basket with odds and ends: packaged food, water, maps. He felt the faint twinge of embarrassment as she began sizing him up for clothing, before stuffing underwear, jeans and some casual shirts into the basket before grabbing clothes for herself.

When they reached the counter, Darcy pulled out one of the maps and studied it carefully. The Soldier catalogued the staff watching them. One old man, a young woman slightly older than Darcy, a man in his forties. None of them a threat.

The latter made him way towards them, welcoming them to the store and asking if they needed help with anything and the Soldier's mind started whirring, thinking of something to say. 'You got any heavy duty backpacks?'

The man (Bob, according to his badge) pointed them out, acting polite, but the Soldier could see his eyes studying Darcy: flicking between her torn shirt, her bruise, and the menacing looking figure he knew he cast standing behind her. He fists clenched as the man asked Darcy if they were going camping.

'Camping down at Sweitzer Lake,' the Soldier answered, gruffly. 'Our stuff got stolen in the middle of the night.'

The man's smile tightened, his eyes still returning to Darcy. Logically the Soldier knew that it was because Darcy was female, seemingly harmless and injured. It didn't mean he had to like the way the other man was appraising her.

As he processes their purchases, the Soldier let Darcy pay for them, trying to keep attention away from his hands as much as possible, even covered by the glove. He kept alert, looking around the store with the casual ease of affected boredom. Until shop-boy Bob mentioned a hotel in town.

'Nah,' Darcy said with a bright smile, before the soldier could intervene, 'we've still got out tent. But thanks for your help. We're just gonna keep heading for Lake Meade like we planned.'

/-/

The Soldier knew that Darcy had no intention of camping, which is why he drove them straight to the hotel Bob had mentioned and whispered in her ear to pay for two nights (one would look suspicious). He was surprised, however, at her little stunt in the store. If anyone asked about them they would be told that the Soldier and Darcy were headed in exactly the opposite direction. It would have been better if she had told the store attendant something even more believable (rather than their supposed plans to double back towards Vegas), but at least she had not given any clues as to where they were headed.

He dropped their newly acquired backpack on the bed as he thought this all through, and watched as Darcy proceeded to rip open the packaging on items of clothing. The Soldier pulled the maps towards him, studying the possible routes while Darcy retreated into the bathroom.

He heard the first of her sobs before they were drowned out by the sound of the shower running. He had seen it happen before, had seen men after combat when the adrenaline had faded and they were faced with what had happened and what they had lost. Why should this girl who acted strong and confident be any different?

What he had never experienced before in this lifetime was the uncomfortable tightening of his chest at the sounds of grief and distress she was trying so desperately to hide.

**Author's Notes**

Sorry for the slow update. Hopefully the next one should come along a bit faster!

As ever, I own nothing recognisable.

Reviews are always appreciated!


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